


my husband married someone else on our anniversary

by forestmagicwithin



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-27 15:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21394261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestmagicwithin/pseuds/forestmagicwithin
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

The lawn was too green for Crowley's taste. Nature was all fine and good, but it didn't have to be so offendingly bright. Didn't match the house either, which was a truly awful shade of seashell pink. It wouldn't have been so distasteful if the balconies and window edgings weren't a pristine white. They were nearly fluorescent, a shade that hardly belonged in this century. The flowerbushes were plopped haphazardly in random patches, seemingly distributed by a muttering madman. Considering the gardening, Crowley had to doubt for a moment that this really was Aziraphale's home.

That is, until the angel himself cleared his throat, rather loudly and somehow with an air of disapproval.

"Ah, angel." Crowley turned around, a smug smile threatening its way around his mouth. "Took you long enough this time round, dinnit?"

Aziraphale pursed his lips, giving Crowley a disapproving look. "I've been around for quite a while now, I'll have you know."

Leaning in, Crowley looked for a second as though he were about to touch the angel's cheek. His hand drifted down, however, to Aziraphale's hand. "Long enough to pick up some trouble of your own, I see," he mused, examining the engagement ring shining harshly on the ethereal finger.

Impatient, Aziraphale tugged his hand away. "I have it under control," he snapped.

"Oh, I'm sure you do. 'Course, it never hurts for me to stick around a bit, watch your mess play out."

Aziraphale glared. "In my experience, your presence always does more harm than good, Crowley. But I suppose it wouldn't hurt terribly if you stayed-"

"Munchkin?" a man's voice called.

Aziraphale winced, his entire face crumpling in on itself. "Rather, perhaps your damage wouldn't be such a burden, in this case."

Crowley raised his eyebrows as a man came running across the lawn. He wore a light beige suit with a blue bowtie, clutching a white hat to his head so as not to lose it. "Ah, there you are," he said, pleased and a little out of breath. Aziraphale was pulled in for a kiss before either had a chance to reply.

Crowley's eyebrows climbed a little higher.

Clearing his throat again and straightening his jacket collar, Aziraphale nodded to his apparent fiance. "Well, my- yes. Were you needing me?"

"Bit of bad luck, seeing the bride before the wedding, innit," Crowley remarked, off-handed.

The man grinned at him, greatly amused. "Bit of bad luck, me marrying him, but here we all are! I'm Anthony Claudius Sherbet, of the upstate Sherbets." He stuck out a hand, not seeming to notice when Crowley didn't take it. "You're a relative, I take it? Or perhaps a coworker- you really _will_ have to tell me what you do for a living sometime, munchkin! Has Deirdre seen to you yet? Probably not- I'll go and fetch her. Or- no, I can't bear to leave you, munchkin, I can hardly bear remaining untied to you until the ceremony! You'll come with me- no, we'll _all_ go up and fetch her together! It's terribly rude to leave a guest alone and unattended, munchkin." He said this last in a chiding tone, as though Aziraphale had been the one to suggest leaving Crowley.

"Quite," Aziraphale replied, sounding a little dazed.

Beaming, Anthony grasped the angel's hand. "Wonderful. Might I ask your name, good fellow?"

"You can call me Charlie." Crowley winked, though the man likely couldn't tell due to the glasses. That didn't much bother him, knowing that the angel always could.

Aziraphale shook his head, nose wrinkling in disgust. "Oh, don't be so base- Charles, if you must."

"Now then, it's my fake name, and I'll do with it what I like. You're the one who took my usual off the market with this bugger," Crowley objected. "Say, Anthony, what time's the show starting?"

"Soon as we can make it, I've got my cousin hounding a priest here with a tree branch." Eagerly, Anthony picked up the pace, all but dragging Aziraphale up to the door.

Beside them, Crowley's long legs made the stride appear leisurely. "He's got his cousin hounding a priest here with a tree branch," he repeated.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Aziraphale insisted. "The local Father's just gone a bit batty, he needs some encouragement in getting around these days. Anthony promised he'll be dressed this time."

"Hell of a town. We should stay through Christmas."

Aziraphale scowled.

Once he'd failed to locate Deirdre, Anthony wandered off to some other distant room in the house, leaving the two in a rather stuffy parlor. If the angel didn't seem so cross already, Crowley would've commented on the misfortune of marrying a man with a grandmother's taste.

"I'm assuming this little shendig has its purpose, but how much of my time are you going to spend on him?" Crowley asked.

Aziraphale's annoyance turned to apology. "I know this isn't how either of us wanted to spend the day. You could go into town while I finish up here, if you like. There's an excellent restaurant-"

"Nah, hate eating alone. I don't mind waiting on you, angel, but you'll be owing me one hell of a day next year."

"Yes, I rather suppose I will," Aziraphale sighed.

One way or another, the ceremony eventually got started. Anthony had by now forgotten his visitor's existence, so Crowley lurked near the bushes by the back row. It was better to be standing anyway; most of the women would've obscured his view with their large hats if he'd had a seat. The priest was indeed dressed, though seemingly not in clothes he actually owned. He did quite a good job despite this, and the wedding concluded without any mishap.

After the feast that followed, the newlyweds led everyone to a small ballroom. There was no shortage of women eager to accompany Crowley on the floor. Velvet and satin and lace blurred as his hands moved from waist to waist, shoulder to shoulder. He forgot to listen to the whispers in his ear, the sultry murmurs, the eyes beckoning him to follow into private chambers whenever a girl took her leave of him.

Anthony's hand was clenching Aziraphale's waist just a little too tightly. The angel left a bland smile on his face, but Crowley had been watching his eyes. He knew how to tell when enough was enough.

And when that other hand slid deftly up his chest and tweaked almost imperceptibly at something near Aziraphale's shoulder, Crowley decided it had gone far past enough. He spun his current lady partner into the arms of a nearby bachelorette and strode towards the couple.

He knew full well the angel could save himself. That wasn't what this was about.

"Lovely party you've got here." His words curt, he took his angel back from the bastard without much hindrance. "Shame I can't stay the night, but I'm sure to find other accommodations."

For the first time, the human truly looked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

Aziraphale tutted, straightening his collar while leveling a chiding look at Anthony. "It's getting rather late, I'm afraid. Charles does require rather a lot of beauty sleep."

"Oi," Crowley said, without much conviction. Aziraphale wasn't upset with the way Crowley was holding him to his chest like this, which told him all he needed to know about the current situation. "Anyway, lovely to come and lovelier to leave, and may we never meet again." He turned, letting the angel take his arm. The two men left the ballroom and the ghastly house behind, one in black and one in white.

There were indeed other accommodations in town; Crowley had made certain of it before the ceremony. He led Aziraphale up to their room while the angel described the information he'd gotten from the sister of the groom, and how he hadn't _meant _to become a Mr. Anthony Sherbet, but some things were kept to the family, so he'd of course had to find _some_ way to break in, and Anthony had simply been the easiest choice-

"Shut your mouth, will you, angel," said Crowley, as he unlocked the door. "Bad enough you went off and married someone else like this today, but talking my ear off about it isn't making me any more sympathetic."

"Well, I-" Aziraphale drew himself up, preparing to be affronted. Crowley raised his eyebrows, however, and he relaxed again. "Yes, I suppose you've been a rather good sport about the matter. _C__harlie_, though-"

Within seconds, Crowley had him pinned to the back of the door. "What did I just say," he muttered, voice low. Before Aziraphale could say anything, Crowley blocked his answer with a rough kiss. One hand pulled at his hair, the other remaining grasped at his jacket collar. His _wedding_ jacket collar, for hell's sake.

Pulling back, he tugged the arms of the jacket down, pulling it off into an unseemly pile by Aziraphale's feet. He captured that stupidly talkative mouth again with his own, a hand at the angel's throat while the other returned to his hair. Aziraphale's own hands grasped at Crowley's back as the demon moved on to his neck, sucking and biting harder than usual.

"Ah- darling, that's- oh, don't stop." Aziraphale was melting against him, gasping slightly, his words riding on hardly a voice and more of a breath. Crowley left a particularly large mark at the sweet spot where his neck met his shoulder. "I want- darling, I want-"

"Right, off with your shirt, then," Crowley answered, yanking it up over the angel's head without waiting. He attacked Aziraphale's neck again the moment the damned thing was off, hands impatiently running over the angel's chest. When Aziraphale grabbed at his ass, he seized the angel's face and kissed him, hard. They went on like that for a bit, Crowley reclaiming the little he'd lost to that Sherbet asshole with every subtle movement or sound he elicted from Aziraphale.

His fingers traced their way along the waistline of Aziraphale's trousers as the passion faded to gentleness. Aziraphale and his little sounds were just as sweet as Crowley remembered. The trousers were an easy thing to be rid of, and then he had Aziraphale's legs around his waist as he carried him to the bed.

He lay beside the angel, idly tracing a line from the middle up his hips to the base of his neck. "You stay away too long," he remarked, before pressing a kiss to the inside of Aziraphale's wrist. "You always do."

"Not my fault for being busy." Aziraphale watched him, blinking slowly with eyes in a dream. "If I had my way of things, Head Office would forget both of us had ever existed."

Crowley had to smile. "Oh, I think we both know you're a little too good for that. Still, I'll blame you for being busy on _our_ day of the year."

"Well, get mad again and kiss me for it."


	2. my husband wrecked me on our anniversary

Crowley smirked. "Oh, you want me angry now?" His voice held a low growl beneath it now. He bit Aziraphale's earlobe, making him shudder.

It was entirely possible Aziraphale had scheduled his plan to coincide with their anniversary. It was even more possible that the wedding could've been avoided all together. But it was, in part, payback for the embarrassment Crowley had caused him in front of three archangels the last time they'd been together. A simply horrid affair, that; it had taken weeks to sort out what everyone saw as a juvenile error on Aziraphale's part. It served Crowley right, to watch him marry some blabbering human.

It was also possible that he'd known exactly what it would do to Crowley every time Anthony so much as looked at him. Before he and Crowley had decided to become tied, they'd been rather open about the whole affair- that is, Aziraphale occasionally fell for a human, while Crowley attempted to sleep with every male member of the human race. (He really wasn't sure if that was an exaggeration; his dear husband had been quite the slut.) Once they'd officiated themselves as together, they'd followed a more monogamous path. They'd never quite discussed it. Demons' stories of the whore Crowley had faded, however, and Aziraphale certainly didn't involve himself with humans anymore. It made him too sad when they died.

Crowley's jealousy had increased after they'd been tied. It never caused problem or argument, and Aziraphale rarely gave reason for it. But it drove the demon absolutely mad over him the moment they were alone after.

And there was just something so _sinful_ about having a fallen angel's wanting hands all over him.

"Darling- _dar_ling-" Aziraphale arched his back as those long-tipped fingers played their way across his length.

The answering chuckle scared him just as much as it excited him. "Yes, angel?"

He knew what Crowley wanted. It was his favorite game, reducing the angel to a begging mess. He wasn't prepared to simply hand that over, however. He did, after all, have a husband waiting for him at home.

Which reminded him. He was playing a game tonight as well. He grabbed Crowley's face, kissing him long and deep before whispering against his lips, "_It's my wedding night._"

"Angel!" In a moment of frustration and hot hands, Crowley was on top of him. "You bastard son of god, I _knew_ it was on purpose!" Before Aziraphale could answer, Crowley's mouth crashed against his, and now the demon's whole hand was stroking his cock. Unthinking, Aziraphale moaned, hips beginning to writhe.

He knew what Crowley'd be wanting first. More than anything right now, he was aiming to make the angel forget heaven and hell existed- that anything existed, outside of the two of them. And that meant...

_Yes_, there were those nimble, loving fingers. Crowley's kisses deepened, turning sweeter as he prepared Aziraphale. The angel moaned softly, needing Crowley to hurry but feeling like he was too turned on to do anything properly. Their lips parted briefly so Crowley could wet his fingers again.

Aziraphale reached a hand to grab the back of Crowley's head, keeping him close. "My love," he whispered.

Those words were still too frightening to ever leave the space right between their faces. Perhaps someday, they wouldn't be. But he loved Crowley too fiercely to let them go unsaid, Gabriel be damned. These moments that were theirs would be theirs completely.

A shudder went through Crowley as his hand abandoned its post. He held Aziraphale tightly to him for a few moments.

A few moments later, Aziraphale was biting his lip to keep from keening as Crowley drove himself inside him.

They lasted a good while like that before Crowley pulled out, grabbing the base of Aziraphale's cock and sucking hard. The angel had to fight against himself as Crowley's expert tongue roved over the head and shaft, practically swallowing him as though Aziraphale were the most delectable item in the world.

"Crowley- darling, please, don't stop- more, darling, please, my god, you're so good, you're too good, darling- _oh..._"

Of course, this was only a precursor; the serious fun began when Crowley lowered himself onto Aziraphale's cock, and the angel nearly came right then and there.

"Patience, angel," Crowley purred, though Aziraphale could hear the tremor of need in his voice. The demon worked his hips until the angel was fully inside him. Through half-closed eyes, Aziraphale watched them move together. They held hands, in this as in all things.

And when it was all over, they kissed and murmured and fell asleep together, naked for each other and still holding on, still holding.


End file.
